


Domestic Bliss

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baking, Crack, Domestic, First Kiss, Humor, Innuendo, Kissing, M/M, Redemption, Shopping, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's world is turned upside down by a dachshund, a fine sense of smell, and a man who simply refuses to <i>go away</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bdos. Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Nowhere except here, and not in translated form either.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written in January 2007.

Everyone had gone stark raving mad, except for Harry. After all, why else would Lucius Malfoy be living at 12 Grimmauld Place, spending his evenings playing chess with Ron, and his days researching dark counter curses with Hermione, baking cookies with Ginny and Mrs Weasley, and fooling about in the back garden with his sodding offspring and a dachshund named Sweetheart? All this if he could take time out of his busy schedule designing classier packaging for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

Harry was puzzled and frustrated beyond words by this recent turn of events. So what if the Order, gallons of Veritaserum, and valuable inside information, had all verified that both male Malfoys - Narcissa had decided that pointy hats and skeletal masks suited her just fine - were on the level when they'd requested sanctuary? Harry didn't trust them as far as he could see their ridiculous platinum hair shining. Especially Lucius. Oooh, but _Lucius_ Malfoy annoyed him rather dreadfully.

"He's changed, Harry. You really should give him a chance," Hermione would insist, then turn all glassy-eyed. "And he's so clever!"

"First bloke to be a real challenge at chess, you know," Ron would explain, as if that was reason enough to spend hours in tournaments by the fireplace. "He's a bit of a laugh too, once you get to know him."

Ginny was particularly fond of the 'getting to know him' bit. "He's a wizard in the kitchen, Harry. I daren't think what he'd be like… elsewhere." Here she would giggle lewdly. "And he's so handsome, even when he's wearing an apron and covered in flour. I don't think even mum minds that he makes better cookies than she does."

Mrs Weasley didn't mind at all. "I never knew Lucius was so charming, Harry!" she would gush. "A real gentleman."

And so it went. By the time Fred and George gleefully handed Harry the latest profit report for the shop, telling him that without Lucius' design overhauls, profits wouldn't have been half as impressive, Harry felt something snap inside him.

He tossed the report at them, not caring that the corner of it struck George between the collarbones, and stomped off to sulk in the garden. He was determined to pretend his household, his friends, his bloody _life_ , weren't being taken over by Lucius the Great. Of course, who did he see the moment he slid the French doors open?

"Ah, Mr Potter! Come to join us in the sun? It's such a pleasant day." Lucius Malfoy smiled, holding a dog spit covered stick in the air and looking ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculously… well, ridiculous.

Harry groaned. "Yeah, sure. I'm here to play with you lot." He sneered back and forth between the Malfoys and their dachshund, the latter yapping like crazy and bouncing towards Harry merrrily. Harry turned on his heel and went back inside, sliding the doors closed with a thud. Then he went up to his room to sulk there instead, quite unaware he'd left all three of them behind with similar kicked puppy expressions.

* * *

Life carried on that way. A month after the Malfoys had moved in, Harry was ready to send an owl to Voldemort, requesting a bit of action. Just to have a valid excuse to get out of the house and away from Goldilocks. It wasn't as if Malfoy Snr. did anything specific to annoy him, except to exist. And be useful around the house. And charming. And surely, he had to be up to something, or why would he bother?

"I'm going grocery shopping," Harry declared one Saturday morning, pulling Molly Weasley's wicker basket out of the broom cupboard.

Molly blinked like a worried owl. "Oh, but Harry, dear! I was about to go myself. It really isn't safe for you."

One death glare later, she backed off, and Harry was ready to slip out the back door when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Would you mind if I joined you, Mr Potter?" Lucius asked sweetly.

"Yes," Harry snapped, shaking off the hand.

"It really would be safer if Lucius went along," Hermione chimed in from behind Molly Weasley, where a small group was beginning to assemble.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "First of all - since when is he _Lucius_? And secondly - since when is it a good idea to take death eaters shopping for added safety?" He regretted the words the moment they had left his mouth, knowing he'd said something very stupid. Of course, at the same time, he blamed Malfoy entirely for his lack of tact and loss of reasoning powers; he simply hadn't been himself since the man had moved in.

A collective gasp of horror had followed Harry's statement, countered only by a single chuckle.

Lucius' eyes were sparkling with mirth when he said, "I would dearly love the opportunity to prove to you that you're safe with me, Mr Potter. Please, do let me accompany you."

Harry could tell everyone was charmed by the bastard's smarmy comment, but he wasn't swayed. "No. You're the reason I need to get out in the first--" He stopped there, knowing that again, he'd said too much, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he had meant by it.

"Really, Mr Potter, I'm hurt." Lucius sounded most convincing, but his eyes gave away that he was far more amused than insulted.

Harry glared at him. "Get Molly to make you a cup of tea then. You'll feel better in no time." And with that, he was gone.

As it turned out, Lucius Malfoy was not only good at ingratiating himself with the others, he was quite a determined sod. So it came as no great surprise to Harry that on arriving at the nearby muggle supermarket, a waft of all too familiar expensive aftershave caught up with him; the man simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

A gloved hand curled around the trolley's handlebar right next to Harry's fingers. "May I?"

Harry snarled and slipped past him into the shop, determined to pretend Malfoy wasn't following hot on his heels and pushing the trolley in a picture of well-bred domesticity. It wasn't as if Harry didn't feel silly losing his composure like this. But why couldn't the man take a hint and keep away from him? And why, in Merlin's name, did he have to keep staring at him with that knowing smirk on his lips?

"Could you ogle somebody else for a change?" Harry snapped at last between the tomatoes and cucumbers.

Lucius Malfoy heaved a long-suffering sigh, but never stopped smirking. "Well, if I must." With that, he manoeuvred the trolley past Harry with his chin raised to prove his disinterest, only to be stopped by a garish sign which read 'Special!' He leaned over a crate of peaches, then picked one up and squeezed it while assessing it with an expert eye.

Harry walked past him to reach for a bunch of grapes, then made the mistake of glancing back at Malfoy, who looked utterly foolish standing there with his fancy clothes and haughty expression, analysing the qualities of a juicy peach. "Good little housewife, aren't you?"

Lucius Malfoy blinked at Harry, then started to snigger.

Harry felt himself blushing for no good reason, but even so, the situation suddenly took on an air of the surreal, and he couldn't stop the snort of laughter escaping him at last. And for a couple of minutes, they stood in Sainsbury's fruit and vegetable department, cackling like idiots and earning more than a few strange looks.

"If I'd known you could be such charming company, Mr Potter, I would have suggested a little shopping trip much sooner," Lucius purred at last. And just like that, he found himself alone; Harry's face had dropped and he'd walked off in irritation, leaving Lucius behind to curse himself under his breath.

Ten minutes went by with Lucius steering the trolley up and down the aisles, plucking items which took his fancy off the shelves, with Harry occasionally passing by to deposit something or other in the trolley as well. Not a word was exchanged.

"Forgot something," Harry muttered at last, just as they were about to join a queue. He was frowning at the list Molly had given him.

Lucius nodded and gallantly motioned for a middle-aged woman with four screaming brats to take their place instead, pulling the trolley out of the way.

Harry hurried back to the baking aisle, where he searched and finally stopped, cursing his bad luck. He stretched up on his toes, attempting to reach the top shelf, but his fingertips barely made contact with the very last, pushed to the far back, jar of dried yeast. He swore when the familiar scent of sandalwood drifted towards him, not wanting to be laughed at for his lack of a final growth spurt.

There was no laughter, just a soft clearing of a throat, followed by, "Allow me."

Harry was pushed bodily against the shelf, Lucius Malfoy's taller, broader form trapping him there like a leaf under a shoe. While Harry wasn't fond of the analogy, his mind immediately ceased to ponder it as the man's right arm came up beside him, reaching past his outstretched hand towards the jar. Harry took a sharp breath when baby soft, long hair brushed his cheek and manicured fingers his knuckles; but the thing which pushed him over the edge altogether was something very hard and unyielding pressing against his arse, rubbing the seam of his jeans between his cheeks.

Harry gave an undignified squeak, overbalancing and nearly toppling half the contents of the shelf on top of himself.

"Oh dear! Do be careful!" Lucius exclaimed, all concern. He reached around Harry's waist and pulled him out of harm's way, hard up against himself. For a moment, they both merely stared at the wobbling shelf and the rattling cans of molasses and golden syrup, breathing hard. Then...

"Stop manhandling me!" Harry hissed under his breath, remembering to put up a struggle at last. "And stop rubbing that… _that_ against me, you perv."

Malfoy grunted something unintelligible, then chuckled. "Oh, you mean my cane, Mr Potter?"

Harry snorted. "If that's what you call it." A small crowd was beginning to form, and he flushed scarlet. "Can you get the bloody yeast now before we're tossed out of here for lewd behaviour? And for Merlin's sake, let go of me."

"Certainly." Lucius' gloved hand closed easily around the jar and plucked it from the shelf, and only then did he retreat from Harry, leaving him standing on unsteady legs. Lucius was wearing a smug smile.

"What are you so happy about? Making me look like an idiot, I assume?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to call you that, Mr Potter."

Before Harry could protest, he noticed that Lucius was playing with his poncy snake-headed walking stick. Which hung from a loop at his belt. His eyes widened in mortification.

"You know," Lucius all but purred. "I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who'd refer to this..." He tapped it on the head until it bobbed up and down. "As a cane." And then he strutted away down the aisle with a smirk, leaving a flustered, pissed off Harry behind.

* * *

After that day, Harry's life truly started down a slippery slope. The walking stick episode had somehow managed to fill his head with the most revolting, unwanted, and downright pornographic scenarios starring himself and Lucius Bloody Malfoy. Scenarios which would suddenly pop up without warning while he was doing perfectly innocuous things like scrubbing vegetables, bending over to pull weeds from the garden, watching Sweetheart make advances on the neighbours' poodle, having a shower, or being on the verge of sleep. Or waking. Or breathing. It was driving him so mad, he knew he'd soon be joining the rest of the Lucius fan club if he didn't get the whole mess out of his system. So he did what any ex-Gryffindor worth his salt would do - he confronted the problem head on without thinking it through.

Lucius was in the library, sitting in the bay window seat with his legs stretched out and crossed elegantly at the ankles. He was deeply engrossed in a book by some peculiar but amusing muggle writer named Agatha Christie, when the door flew open and his host strode in towards him. He raised his head and smiled pleasantly. "Good afternoon, Mr Potter."

"What did you do to me?" Harry bleated out, determinedly not giving a second look to the man's casual but refined muggle attire in dark grey and ivory, or the way he was lounging in _his_ favourite seat as if he belonged there.

Sighing, Lucius set down the book. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"No, I wouldn't. Just tell me." Hands on his hips, Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"That's rather difficult, considering I'm quite in the dark as to the subject of this conversation." Lucius smiled innocently, which seemed to annoy the young man even further.

"In the supermarket. You did something to me. With your stick."

Lucius snickered. "Still concerned about that, are we? Well, it's really quite a harmless accessory I've had custom-designed for me by my personal… um, Mr Potter?"

Harry wasn't even listening. He had picked up the cane from the floor and was running his wand up and down the length of it.

It made Lucius' throat quite dry to watch the intensity in the green eyes and the way a pink tongue stuck out just a little in concentration. When Potter lifted the cane, cast Lumos on the tip of his wand, and started poking it into the serpent's head, Lucius gulped. "I assure you, you have nothing to fear from my cane, Mr Potter. Why would you even assume…"

Potter glared at him. "Why? _Why?_ Let me ask you this, Malfoy - why isn't it enough that my so-called friends are fussing over you and leering at you and simpering like idiots?"

Lucius blinked in surprise. He sucked in a sharp breath as Potter stuck his wand into his back pocket and began running his bare hands all over his cane, sliding his fingers up and down the gleaming wood before tracing them over the snake head. Lucius loosened his collar. "Well, I…"

"Don't think I don't know you're trying to take over my household. Baking cookies indeed! Do you think I _like_ the smell of vanilla and aniseed, not to mention sandalwood, everywhere I go?"

"I'd be happy to change my recipe, or my aftershave, Mr Potter, if either offends you. If only you'd…"

"And all that prancing about dressed like a fashion model! And why is your spawn suddenly _nice_ to me? And your stupid dog keeps humping my leg, and…"

Lucius' mouth had slowly started twitching at the corners during Harry's diatribe, but at that moment, he burst out laughing. He reached out to unceremoniously yank Harry forward until he toppled across his lap, right into the window seat. "Sweetheart has excellent taste," he purred, then silenced the much too chatty lips with his own.

There was a brief and unconvincing struggle, and an indignant squawk which sounded quite adorable from inside Lucius' mouth, and then there were only moans - soft, delicious moans of surrender, and arms raised and wrapping around Lucius' neck, and a slender, youthful body slowly, ever so slowly, relaxing into his own.

"Don't even think you can win me over like this," Harry panted against Lucius' lips some time later.

"Of course not." Lucius kissed Harry's cheek, then his nose, then his chin jutting forward in a last show of protest. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"I refuse to be a play thing..." Harry breathed. "For your slobbering dog." He closed his eyes when Lucius' lips fastened on his neck. "Even if he's cute." He allowed himself to be lowered to the padded bench between Lucius and the window.

"You don't have to be, Harry," Lucius murmured agreeably before his tongue began a slow downward descent hot on the trail of his fingers unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

"Not going to be nice to Draco!" Harry gasped when a soft mouth plucked at his right nipple.

"Wouldn't expect you to be." Lucius smirked against the hard nub, then moved on to an enticing patch of smooth skin nearby. "Have you ever called him Draco before?"

Harry blushed. "Doesn't mean anything." Then the air left his lungs all at once; Lucius' fingertips were circling his navel teasingly and a soft chuckle close to Harry's ear made him cross-eyed. With great effort, he gasped, "I won't bake cookies with you!"

"Hmm… no," Lucius agreed, snapping Harry's jeans button open and sliding his zip down slowly. "Perish the thought."

"Exactly," Harry gasped excitedly, then brushed the back of his hand over his damp forehead. "And I won't… I… I… oooh…" His mouth formed the last word and stayed that way while a large hand cupped him through his underwear, even though it would have only been a moment's effort to slide inside. Lucius really was a bastard.

"You won't what?" Lucius prompted, looking deep into Harry's eyes without pausing in his gentle squeezing motions.

Harry gulped. He's seen that look directed at him over dinner, across the drawing room on lazy afternoons, on the upper landing while crossing the man's path; only now did he realise what it meant, and that his toes hadn't been curling in frustration and anger at all. His lips parted in surprise.

Lucius took the opportunity to nip at Harry's bottom lip, then let it go and flicked it playfully with his tongue.

Whimpering, Harry tightened his grip on a hard, unyielding shoulder. "Won't play chess with you."

Lucius chuckled darkly. "Certainly _not_." He brushed back Harry's hair and whispered sensuously into his ear, "There are far better games you and I can play, my dear." And with that, he dipped his tongue into the shell of Harry's ear.

Harry response was much closer to one of Sweetheart's yips than anything human. Perhaps that was what attracted the dog to the far end of the garden, where he hopped up and down outside the library window excitedly.

Draco picked him up a moment later, only to find himself witness to Harry's impending ravishment at his father's hands. A genuine smile tugged at his lips. "About sodding time."

 

THE END


End file.
